


not the same as loneliness

by crookedspoon



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Fingering, Belated Treatmas 2020, Catatonic Cloud Strife, Frottage, M/M, Nonconathon Treat, Rape/Non-con Elements, Zack Fair Is Trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28439613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: The worst thing is perhaps that he's getting used to this. Falling asleep with his arms around Cloud, waking up next to him, the intimacy of skin on skin. Somewhere along the line, his body has tricked him into believing this is normal, this is right, and that Cloud feels the same way because just he doesn't pull away.
Relationships: Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63
Collections: Happy Belated Treatmas 2020, Nonconathon 2020





	not the same as loneliness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chicago_ruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [chicago_ruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/pseuds/chicago_ruth) in the [happy_belated_treatmas_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/happy_belated_treatmas_2020) collection. 



The days stretch on endlessly into nights and the nights are cold. Lonely. His only companion is not much of a conversationalist these days. Hasn't been, for a while.

Everything has changed so drastically since he woke up. Since they escaped. He'd hoped Cloud would have shaken off his mako poisoning by now. Had hoped they'd have made it somewhere safe. But without transport, the trek to Midgar from the mountains is a long one. On foot, trying to keep a low profile, they don't get far at all.

They're nowhere near safe and Cloud is nowhere near back to lucid again. It worries Zack, although he hides it beneath a veneer of fake cheerfulness. It helps him get through the day. One foot in front of the other, even if Cloud is dragging his behind. Zack talks until he's hoarse, especially at night, to chase the quiet away. Talks as if Cloud would reply – as if he _does_ reply, even if it's only in his head. It's comforting, in a weird way, like nothing bad ever happened and Cloud will be all right, because Zack imagines him to be all right.

He's not all right.

His eyes are glassy and far away, his breathing shallow. Being dragged across the country takes a toll on him. He's panting by the time they stop for the night, perspiration matting his hair to his forehead, and Zack stays with him until his breathing evens out. Watching Cloud gasp for breath makes Zack's chests twinge in strange ways, but he tells himself it's just because he's worried Cloud might one day be unable to suck in enough oxygen by himself.

Everything is fine during the day – mostly, anyway – when they wander ever closer to their destination, when Zack can distract himself with simply moving. It's at night that he struggles. It's the stillness of the world around them, as if waiting with bated breath, although he couldn't guess what for. As long as it's not their capture, he doesn't care much either way. He is taut with anticipation, with the strenuousness of the day, as if his efforts alone might compel Cloud to speak. The silence between them becomes unbearable.

Zack's idle chatter sounds hollow to his own ears and fails more often than not to keep his spirits up. Still, if there's a chance that Cloud can hear him, he'll continue.

He builds a low fire, just enough to fry the critters he managed to trap the previous night, but not enough to draw attention to them. Zack doesn't always find the perfect spots that are sheltered from the wind, soft enough to sleep on, and far enough away from any prying eyes. 

It's worse because it's winter. The creeks are frozen, critters are hibernating, and the low fires barely provide them with enough warmth to make it through to morning. Not that Zack minds the cold. He's burning up most days, the mako in his veins keeping him alive, but Cloud is not that way. Before, this might have been his kind of weather, but now he's an icicle whenever they stop for the night.

Zack does what he can, seats him as close to the fire as he dares, and when it's time for supper, he props him against his chests and lets his warmth seep into him. He tips Cloud's head back against his shoulder as he feeds him hand to mouth, the morsels so tender they dissolve on the tongue. He keeps the tough bits for himself. He doesn't mind chewing a bit longer. Keeps his mind off other things. Such as the way Cloud's head keeps lolling against his neck as if he were drowsy. Or the way Cloud's lips sometimes close around his fingers when he feeds him. It sends a thrill through him, because every sign of voluntary action on Cloud's part is a good sign. It says that he might be coming back to himself.

He hasn't yet, so far, but Zack still has hopes. He's sure he can coax Cloud out of his catatonia _somehow._ It's not only his reaction to being fed that tells Zack it's possible. There are other things, too.

Before they settle down to sleep, Zack massages some life back into Cloud's stiff limbs. It helps put him to sleep. By the time his circulation is back in gear and his fingers no longer in danger of freezing off, Cloud is puffing his breaths. His cheeks are flushed, his chest visibly rising. It makes Zack a little too aware when he beds down on the ground and pulls Cloud against his chest, to keep him warm through the night. He presses his face into the crook of Cloud's shoulder, holds him tight, and just focuses on Cloud breathing against him. Every day they make it is another victory.

Still, it's not an easy victory.

Mornings are the worst. Waking up chilly and sore from their journey, pressed against Cloud, and _wanting._ Sometimes he notices that he's hard and grinding against Cloud, to find some relief. What makes him feel guilty about it is not that he does it but that he wants to continue, wants to hold Cloud's hips still and rut himself to completion. It's a sad thought made sadder by the fact that Cloud can't give him shit for it. If he could, perhaps Zack would do it without shame. Cloud is a pretty one; Zack wouldn't mind if they helped each other out.

He refrains, mostly because he doesn't fancy coming in his pants and spending the rest of the day walking around in them. He needs to acquire a change of clothes for them, and soon. His own are stiff with sweat and dirt. He keeps looking for hollows near streams to camp out for the night. That way, he can wash their clothes and hang them up to dry until the morning. That takes care of some of the stiffness and the dirt. The water is like knives, and both of them are shivering miserably until they can huddle together in front of the roaring fire. 

At first, that was all he could focus on: the cold, their circumstances, wondering how many miles they put between themselves and their pursuers this time. He was drawing on his mental maps, trying to remember which directions the nearest villages lay and where he and Cloud might be in relation to them. Going into villages might be risky – it would make them easier to track – but villages could also provide them with food and shelter. What good is staying off the radar if they freeze to death?

Saddled with worries such as these, he didn't register Cloud's nakedness or the feel of his skin against his own. They were simply two blocks of ice trying to warm up somehow.

Now, as they thaw against each other, Zack finds his fingers roaming more and more. Cloud's skin is pebbled with gooseflesh and when he shivers, it's almost like he shivers from excitement, not the cold. They heat up more rapidly like this and it feels nice, touching another person, even if that person can't respond in kind. It makes Zack wistful. If Cloud were lucid, they could tease each other relentlessly if just to pass the time. He likes to imagine how red Cloud would grow at the idea of sleeping together naked to preserve warmth.

(He likes to imagine Cloud would let him touch him, kiss him, rub against him. Would maybe turn around so they could touch and kiss and rub against each other. But those are idle thoughts.)

The worst thing is perhaps that he's getting used to this. Falling asleep with his arms around Cloud, waking up next to him, the intimacy of skin on skin. Somewhere along the line, his body has tricked him into believing this is normal, this is right, and that Cloud feels the same way just because he doesn't pull away. Cloud makes soft noises when Zack strokes his fingers down his arms, when he kisses the side of his neck, or brushes his hair out of his face.

It's a nice fantasy while it lasts, and it lasts longer every day. There's a lightness in Zack's chest when he looks at Cloud, when they set out in the morning or stop for a breather, like Zack can handle anything so long as Cloud is by his side. Cloud keeps him going, keeps him striving for a new and better tomorrow for them both.

It's not an easy path to walk. Each day he has to ignore the complete lack of progress he's made with Cloud's memory, and each night he has to resist the growing familiarity of their bodies. After all this time they've spent together, it's difficult to remember what it was like before, when Cloud still had a voice of his own, when Zack didn't listen to it hitch and stutter as he mapped out the length of his skin with his fingertips, when he didn't grind himself against Cloud's backside and worry his teeth against his neck as he chased his completion.

Zack is horrified the first time it happens. He stares at the pearlescent mess coating Cloud's back, at the pink flush on his cheeks, the utter helplessness of his unmoving body, and hastily wipes him down with the edge of his cloak as if he could also wipe away what he had done. How could he have let himself slip so far? It's one thing to discreetly get off next to Cloud while he's presumably asleep and quite another to use his body to rub up against while he's awake and unable to—what? Lend a hand? Push Zack onto his back and straddle him? Grind their hips together until either of them comes?

Zack closes his eyes. Pushes out a breath. Those are bad thoughts he shouldn't entertain. And yet... He brushes his knuckles over Cloud's heated cheeks, tousles his sleep-mussed hair. Cloud is awake and doesn't flinch. He just trembles beneath Zack's touch. How much of what is happening does he understand? How much does he tolerate because he can't change it? How much does he wish he could stop? Zack has no way of knowing. Cloud's condition makes him seem willing.

He is not, as a tiny part of Zack is quick to remind him, although he finds himself suppressing that voice more and more. It serves no purpose here, where a harmless bit of fiction helps a lonely guy to carry on. His conscience still nags at him but he's almost sure Cloud would forgive him if he knew. And as long as he doesn't... well, it's like this never happened. Zack can bury his guilt and let it lie.

Except...

Except he can't forget that Cloud responds to their intimacy. He had hoped it would help him in some way. Coax Cloud gently back to himself, or something. At times, Zack thinks he's succeeding. It's so easy to mistake muscle spasms for voluntary movement.

Zack wonders what kind of stimulation Cloud might need to snap out of it. And if he could provide it somehow. It crushes Zack not to know what to do. How to help his friend. Zack didn't break them out of the Shinra Mansion only for Cloud to remain trapped inside his own body. Cloud deserves to be free, just like him.

Though perhaps it's better for him to stay this way, at least until they're somewhere safe, somewhere warm. Zack is cold and miserable enough for the both of them. Not that it wouldn't be nice to have someone to complain with. He'd be back to his old disposition in no time, if only to inspire Cloud to cheer up and keep going.

Zack is so exhausted he doesn't see the farmhouse they're ambling towards until he's almost on its doorstep. His mood skyrockets in an instant. For the first time in days, he feels something akin to relief as he and Cloud hobble forward to knock. 

His rush of energy is short-lived, however. The farm stands abandoned. Zack could have noticed sooner if he weren't standing on his last leg. Perhaps then the disappointment wouldn't be this acute. He'd hoped to meet someone. Anyone.

At this point, he wouldn't mind running into Shinra goons if only for a change of pace. He hasn't changed his mind about evading them, but it would be good to hear another person's voice. His own is hoarse and his throat parched. He whispers to Cloud at night. Everything else seems disturbingly loud. 

Still, the farmhouse appears to be in good shape. A little weather-beaten, but sturdy enough to shelter there for the night. The interior is musty, the air somewhat stale, but it might as well have been a palace. Zack nearly weeps for joy when he sees the bed with its damp mattress. A real mattress! With a fire to chase away the chill, it might be serviceably dry come nightfall. 

After Zack let's Cloud down gently, he gets lost in a flurry of activity. There's a wood stack outside that he picks some logs from, and a well that isn't frozen over. Zack hangs an iron cauldron over the fire and fills it with water drawn from the well. He's found a large wooden tub and some soap, and the thought of a real, hot bath excites him so much he can hardly keep still. Before he knows it, he's cleaned the cobwebs from the corners and dusted the room. Cloud even sneezes once.

It takes a while to fill the tub with the boiling water from the cauldron. By the time it's chest-high, dusk has fallen outside. The shadows inside lengthen and dance in the firelight. Cloud seems to be dozing, with his chin resting on his chest. 

"I've got a surprise for you," Zack whispers as he crouches down beside him. He reaches out to brush his thumb across Cloud's cheek and his heart clenches when Cloud leans into the touch. "Let's get you out of those clothes."

Despite the warm blaze he's been sitting beside, Cloud feels almost frozen. Unlike Zack, he does not have the advantage of being able to exert himself and the farmhouse is somewhat draughty. Zack piles another log onto the fire and throws their clothes into the cauldron to soak. He can hardly wait to give them a good cleaning with hot water and soap later.

But first things first. He helps Cloud into the tub. The water's just the right temperature, not too scalding but not too tepid either. Zack picks up the bar of soap he's found and slips in behind Cloud. As soon as his foot touches the water and his leg sinks in, a pleasant tingling sensation crawls across his skin. The cold that has been sitting in his bones is slowly dissipating. He lets out a contented sigh. How long has it been since he could simply relax? It seems like a lifetime ago.

For a few moments, he's perfectly happy to sit in the water with his arms around Cloud, feeling Cloud's chest expand against his own. The warmth makes him drowsy. Makes him realise how worn-down he is. He could sleep for days.

To keep himself awake, he gropes around for the bar of soap that's slipping to and fro on the bottom of the tub. After so much time spent outside, sleeping in his one change of clothes or naked beneath his cloak, the mere idea of getting clean seems extravagant beyond belief but it's an extravagance that he and Cloud have earned. Zack takes pleasure in the simple act of soaping them up until they're slippery like eels. Simple, but also fiendishly arousing. And not only to him. The slick slide of skin against skin gets to Cloud as well. He sucks in weak gasps of breath, even wiggles in Zack's embrace.

That alone is enough to give Zack hope, but it's another discovery that receives his full attention: Cloud is hard. During all this time that Zack had let his fingers roam Cloud's body, he's never registered more than a faint stirring. But now, Cloud is sporting an erection to rival his own. 

Zack shouldn't, but he can't help himself. His hand slides between Cloud's thighs, cupping his erection and giving it a gentle squeeze. The hitched moans that steal from Cloud's lips are utterly sweet and Zack kisses the column of his throat as if he could taste them there. They're a vibration against his skin, just as Cloud's arousal resonates within his own soul.

This is what he has been looking for, Zack is sure of it. This is the kind of stimulation that Cloud needs to find back to himself.

He can't believe he hadn't thought of it before. Or perhaps he had and had dismissed it as too intimate, as overstepping some sort of boundary that should remain intact. He no longer understands that hesitation. Cloud's gasping moans indicate that he wants this as much as Zack does, and Zack couldn't deny Cloud anything in the world. 

If Cloud were to ask him to stop, he would, but he doesn't, so here they are. Cloud's head falls back against Zack's shoulder, and he's panting, open-mouthed and beautiful. Zack kisses him. He finally, finally kisses him fully and deeply, his tongue delving between his lips and coaxing more of those sweet sounds out of him.

For something that Zack has been waiting for so patiently, the angle is awkward, however. He imagines Cloud must be getting a crick in his neck from it. In one smooth motion, Zack spins Cloud around and crowds his back against the wall of the tub. The force of his momentum carries half the contents over the rim. A wave of sudsy water splashes onto the wooden floor and the fire hisses as it is nearly extinguished. Zack should probably stoke to make sure it doesn't go out. Though that's for later.

All that matters right this moment is Cloud, the feel of his lips against Zack's, the press of his body, so feeble and thin, and the culmination of their desire for each other.

Zack is getting lost in the silk-soft feeling of Cloud's skin. Letting their erection glide against each other haphazardly, he grabs Cloud's ass with both hands, keeping his hips steady as he thrusts his own against them. The friction is delicious. But not half as delicious as the stuttery moan Cloud breathes into his mouth the moment Zack's fingers rub over his hole. Zack wants to be inside him so bad, it's like a physical ache, like his skin is covered with crude oil and left to burn.

Cloud sighs as Zack crooks his fingers inside, first one, then another. Cloud is the epitome of heat and velvety softness, of everything Zack has wanted for so long and will keep on wanting until Cloud can grant it to him freely and fully conscious. This – this is nothing but a taste of that, a taste that Zack laps up hungrily, but a taste nonetheless.

He reaches deeper, searching for that spot that would make Cloud's nerves light up like fireworks. He must have found it because the moment he brushes it, Cloud's whole body is quivering like a leaf about to be carried off by the wind. Zack can feel it in himself, the shudder of anticipation, of imminent relief.

When it comes to him, the form it takes is wholly unexpected. It comes in the form of a hand clasping his forearm, barely holding on.

Zack gasps out Cloud's name, intones it over and over as though to pin his soul in place. Cloud stiffens against him, release spattering his abdomen, and like that the spell is broken. Everything is as it was before, if perhaps a touch more turbulent. The water laps against them as though storm-tossed before evening out into a calm glassy lake-like surface. Cloud is slumped against the tub, flushed and gasping shallow breaths.

Zack himself is buzzing with suppressed kinetic energy. He is kneeling in the tub, half-leaning over Cloud, half-sitting back onto his heels. His mind hasn't yet caught up to his body. He's lost in the phantom pressure that sits upon his forearm, as though a hand were still encircling it. His eyes fall to where Cloud's right hand is submerged, resting against his knee as though it had never surfaced. But he had felt it. Surely that had been real.

He lets out a shaky breath. And brushes his fingers along Cloud's forehead. A droplet of water runs down his temple. Zack kisses it away. Laughter bubbles its way up from his diaphragm to his throat as he does he so.

Cloud's eyelashes flutter against his cheek. The eyes hidden behind them may still be glassy and far away, but for the first time since escaping Shinra, Zack feels as though Cloud is there with him, like a ghost floating just outside time and space. As though all he has to do is reach out and touch him, reel him back in and anchor him to his body. 

Zack wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth. It seems like an impossible task, but at the same time, it has suddenly become much more doable. And he'll succeed in bringing him back. He has no idea how, but he'll figure it out. It's the least he can do for Cloud.


End file.
